


A Little Less Sixteen Candles (a little more touch me)

by LadySlytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hugo Weasley has accepted that he’s not the sort of person who inspires strong feelings in others, or even has them himself. So when his family forgets his sixteenth birthday amidst the preparations for Rose’s wedding, Hugo is more resigned than anything else. Luckily for Hugo, there’s someone who does have strong feelings for him…and that someone is determined to make Hugo feel something, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Less Sixteen Candles (a little more touch me)

**Author's Note:**

> A pinch-hit for the HP Rare Pairs Fest on LJ, this was written mostly because I apparently love Kitty way too much to ever say no to her. And partly because I love this pairing and it needs more fic. And a little because I had this idea. The title of this is a Fallout Boy song and the plot is (very, _very_ loosely) based on the movie “Sixteen Candles”. A big thank you to LP, for reading this for me and gushing at all the right points.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> ~ LS

Hugo sat listlessly in his backyard, kicking his heels rhythmically against the wall he was perched on. He watched as his mum - armed with a clipboard and a biro - barked orders at the florist’s assistants. Rose was getting married tomorrow and Hugo _hated_ it.

 

Not because he wasn’t happy for Rose. He _was._ He loved his sister. And he loved Lysander Scamander, her husband-to-be. Lysander was clever and amusing and he shared Rose’s love of books and learning. And Lysander loved Rose, very much. Which was why Hugo’s parents had agreed to let Rose get married at the very young age of eighteen, immediately after graduating from Hogwarts.

 

No, the reason Hugo had learned to hate the wedding was because of _today._ The day before Rose’s _‘special day’_. Which just so happened to be Hugo’s sixteenth birthday.

 

Not that anyone had remembered.

 

It wasn’t that Hugo needed a big fuss, or a party, or a bunch of presents. And it wasn’t even that he was jealous of the attention Rose was getting. It was just that he had _always_ been fairly easy to forget and it just wasn’t fair.

 

Rose was the wickedly-smart one. She was a Ravenclaw who could out-study their mother and trounce absolutely anyone at chess. She also played Quidditch, much to their father’s delight, and was an amazing Chaser. She had job offers from four departments at the Ministry and two professional Quidditch teams. She had been dating Lysander since they were in their Third Year. She was willowy and graceful and _everyone_ loved her. Everyone noticed when she walked into a room; everyone melted when she smiled; everyone listened when she talked.

 

Hugo was short and slender and ridiculously clumsy. He could walk into furniture he was looking at, he could trip over flat, level surfaces, and he seemed prone to slamming his shoulder and arm into doorways as he walked through them. He was hopeless at flying, and even worse at Quidditch. He couldn’t play a decent game of chess to save his life. His grades were adequate, but nothing compared to Rose’s. And Hugo had never dated anyone.

 

Half of the reason for that was because Hugo had had a crush on someone for almost as long as he’d been at Hogwarts. And it was _hopeless._ Scorpius Malfoy was so far out of Hugo’s league it wasn’t even funny. The gorgeous, devious, wicked Slytherin – who was best friends with both Rose and their cousin, Albus Severus – was everything Hugo wasn’t. Slytherin’s Seeker for six years,  Prefect, Head Boy to Rose’s Head Girl, funny, dangerous, elegant...

 

No, someone like Hugo couldn’t ever have someone like Scorpius. Hugo wasn’t even important enough for his own family to remember his sixteenth birthday. It was ridiculous. But Hugo reminded himself that it was okay, because it wasn’t like he _loved_ Scorpius. Hugo didn’t really have strong feelings. He almost never got angry, he rarely ever cried, and it wasn’t even all that often that he _really_ laughed, rather than just pretending because it was expected. Hugo was just utterly serene. He figured that was probably the other half of why he’d never dated anyone. There wasn’t much point in dating anyone when you didn’t feel anything for them beyond a sort of vague fondness.

 

Seeing Hermione look around, her sharp eyes narrowed, Hugo let himself drop backwards over the wall he’d been sitting on. He landed with a soft _whump_ – and a low groan of pain – in the grassy field on the other side of it. He was now safely out of his mother’s view. Likely she wanted him to attend to some wedding-related detail and Hugo didn’t think he could do it without screaming.

 

He closed his eyes, drowsily soaking up the July sunshine. He’d just hide here for a minute. Just...for...a minute...

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Scorpius Malfoy stood in Rose Weasley’s bedroom, watching the lightning out the window. The sky had darkened rapidly and the lightning started moments later. Any second now, the clouds were going to burst open and it would be _pouring._ Which was why Rose was in tears behind him, while her mother and Al tried to comfort her. Scorpius didn’t bother. It would soon be raining all over the decorations and flowers for her lovely outdoor wedding. _Nothing_ was going to stop those tears.

 

Scorpius suddenly frowned. “Aunt Hermione?” He asked, calling her what he’d called her since the first time Al and Rose had brought him home with them at Christmas during their First Year. “Where’s Hugo?”

 

“What?” Hermione looked over at Scorpius, clearly not focused on him or his words at all. “I don’t...in his room, I assume. Why are you even...it hardly matters right now, Scorpius! Rose’s wedding could be _ruined_ if we don’t all work out how to handle the rain!”

 

Scorpius blinked, then frowned. “Well clearly we just need a large enough indoor setting. Such as the ballroom at the Manor. Father won’t mind in the slightest; you know he adores Rose.”

 

Rose’s tears stopped and she looked up, her wide blue eyes shining. “Oh, ‘Pi, do you think we could? Do you _really_ think we could?”

 

Scorpius shrugged. “I don’t see why not, Rosie.” He glanced back out at the threatening clouds and added thoughtfully. “I’ll be back in a little while. Excuse me.”

 

Albus shot him a curious look as he walked out, but Rose and Hermione were already fervently making plans for moving the wedding to the Manor. Scorpius ignored them all.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Hugo was startled awake by the sudden realization that he was drowning.

 

He sat up in the field – which was swiftly turning to mud under him – gasping and choking on the water that had flooded his mouth and nose and lungs. Hugo coughed and spit, then took a deep breath. His lungs stung a little, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He considered getting up and going inside, out of the rain washing over him. But then he realized Rose and his mother would be freaking out over the wedding. And it wasn’t as though anyone would miss him, anyway.

 

Closing his eyes, Hugo braced his hands behind him, leaned back a little, tipped his face up, and just let the rain wash over him. It was a warm summer rain, rather than icy like spring or fall rains, and it felt good against his skin. Lightening flashed across the sky, the light flashing white behind his eyelids and bringing a smile to his lips. Then thunder rumbled – a low, harsh growl – and Hugo’s smile widened, showing straight, white teeth. He _loved_ a good storm.

 

And since he’d gotten nothing else for his sixteenth birthday, he was going to savor this storm.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

That was how Scorpius found Hugo a few minutes later. He stared down at the petite teen from his height of nearly six-feet, wondering what in the world the boy was doing.

 

Hugo blinked open wide, dark eyes just as lightning flashed across the sky again. The purple-white light revealed the deep blue of Hugo’s eyes. They stared at each other as the world went dark again – Hugo in the rain and soaked to the skin; Scorpius under the protection of a charm to keep dry. Then Hugo licked rainwater from his lips and blinked slowly, wondering if he was dreaming. He had to be, didn’t he? Why else would Scorpius be standing over him in a torrential downpour?

 

“Why in the world are you sitting in the mud, in the pouring rain?” Scorpius asked. Although he sounded more amused than anything else, there was a hint of genuine curiosity in his words.

 

“I like storms.” Hugo answered in the low, breathless voice that Scorpius found ridiculously endearing. “I mean, they’re just so...so unrestrained. Everything about it – the rain, the wind, the lightning – is all so wild and fierce.”

 

A slow, wicked smile curved Scorpius’ lips and his handsome face suddenly looked dangerous, but in the most delicious way. Rather like the storm. “Well, I suppose that makes sense...” He drawled, his voice huskier than it had been a moment earlier. “After all, who could resist such...untamed passion?”

 

Hugo swallowed hard, wondering if Scorpius had intended to sound as suggestive as he had. A bit hesitantly, Hugo asked. “How did you find me? Why are you even out here?”

  
Scorpius kept right on smiling as he answered. “I was looking for you. I hadn’t seen you in hours, so I thought you must be outside. And with the rain starting up, it seemed pertinent to come and fetch you in before you catch cold.” Holding out his hand to Hugo, he added imperiously. “Come on, then. No point in dawdling.”

 

“It’s not cold.” Hugo replied, looking suddenly sullen. “And neither am I’m.”

 

Scorpius raised an eyebrow when Hugo sat up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring up at him. “You’re just going to sit here, in this field, in the rain, all night?”

 

“Maybe.” Hugo retorted, his chin coming up defensively. “Why’s it any of _your_ business? Did mum send you out here to fetch me? Needs me to hold an umbrella over the altar, does she?”

 

Scorpius blinked – very slowly – at the bitterness lacing Hugo’s words and the unhappy look twisting the boy’s sweet face. Then he quirked an eyebrow and drawled. “No, actually. Your mother and sister and Al are all busy planning to move the wedding to the Manor, at my invitation. I don’t think any of them even realize you’re out here.”

 

If Scorpius had been hoping to bring Hugo’s mood up, he failed miserably. It looked like a black cloud settled behind Hugo’s eyes; his whole face darkened. “I just bet they don’t.” He said flatly. “So I think I _will_ stay out here, in the mud and rain, all night.”

 

“And if you should happen to catch pneumonia?” Scorpius asked, completely exasperated with the teenager. “Do you _want_ to have to go to St. Mungo’s and miss Rose’s wedding?”

 

“What I want is none of your business, Malfoy.” Hugo uncrossed his arms and let himself fall backwards into the muddy grass. He raised his hands over his head, closed his eyes, and let the rain wash over his face. “And it’s not as though they’d miss me if I _were_ at St. Mungo’s tomorrow. They’re not even missing me _today._ And tomorrow is Rose’s day, not mine, so they’ll miss me even less.”

 

Scorpius blinked again, staring down at Hugo. He had a feeling he was missing something; some crucial bit of information that would make what Hugo had just said make sense. Part of his brain was struggling to figure it out; to put the pieces together. It was difficult to concentrate, though, when the petite redhead was sprawled at his feet. The way Hugo had his arms above his head raised his tee-shirt, baring an expanse of his pale stomach to Scorpius’ gaze. His tee-shirt and jeans were soaked through, clinging to Hugo’s slender form.

 

Scorpius swallowed hard, then forced his mind back to Hugo’s words. Suddenly Scorpius’ eyes went wide, then his whole face softened. _“Oh…”_ He breathed, sounding apologetic. “Oh, Hugo…”

 

Those wide eyes opened and Hugo shoved himself up to seated again, glaring. “ _Don’t.”_ He hissed, fury momentarily etched into every line of his sweet, pretty face. “Don’t you _dare_ pity me, Malfoy. I didn’t ask for that, and I don’t want it. _Especially_ not from _you!”_

 

“I don’t _pity_ you, Hugo.” Scorpius chided softly. “I’m just sorry I didn’t realize myself. Rose’s wedding is, of course, demanding quite a lot of attention, but that’s no excuse. I won’t apologize for your family, because that’s not my place. But I will apologize for the fact that _I_ forgot. I’m sorry.”

 

Hugo stared up at Scorpius in shock, his anger melting away as swiftly as it had come, then asked. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not like you’re expected to remember. You barely know me, for all that you're one of Rose’s best friends.”

 

Scorpius didn’t quite know how to answer that, so he shrugged. “It’s rude to forget a birthday, Hugo, regardless of how close – or not – one might be to the person in question.”

 

“Still…” Hugo could feel himself blushing; he could feel the heat in his cheeks. “I mean, I forgive you, of course, but since I wasn’t expecting you to remember in the first place it’s really not that big of a deal or anything.”

 

Scorpius shrugged again, then held out his hand. “Will you come inside now? I really don’t want you getting sick.”

 

Hugo sighed, but pushed himself to his feet without assistance. When Scorpius slowly lowered his hand, looking a little bit hurt, Hugo lowered his eyes and explained softly. “I’m covered in mud. I didn’t want to get any on you.”

 

Scorpius nodded, saying nothing, and the two made their way to the small gate in the wall that separated the field from the yard. Then it was a slow, silent walk through the rows of white folding chairs, decorated on either side of the aisle with white organza ribbon and large orange tiger lilies. All of these – and the altar, also decorated in ribbon and flowers – were soaked and drooping under the deluge of rain. Hugo sighed softly and shook his head as he walked up the aisle with Scorpius towards the house.

 

“I would think you’d be enjoying this a bit.” Scorpius drawled, glancing sideways at him, still completely dry beneath his charm. “I mean, considering this wedding ruined your birthday…”

 

Hugo came to an abrupt halt, staring in shock at Scorpius. “What kind of a prat do you think I am, Malfoy, to be happy about my sister’s wedding being rained on? I _love_ Rose! And if I miss one, single birthday party so that her wedding can be perfect, then fine.”

 

Scorpius quirked an eyebrow. “One birthday? Really? Don’t you think all of her wedding anniversaries will overshadow your birthdays as well? Every year, when you ought to be getting cake and presents, everyone will instead be celebrating the fact that she and Lysander have been married another year longer.” His head tipped to the side, white-blonde hair falling over one grey eye, and asked. “Does that really not bother you?”

 

Hugo bit his lip for a moment, then swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. “Does it matter if it does?” He finally asked hoarsely. “Rose is happy and I love her. So that’s what matters. Why are you even pushing this? Do you _want_ me to be unhappy or something? For Merlin’s sake, Malfoy, just leave me alone!”

 

Scorpius watched, with narrowed eyes and a thoughtful frown, as Hugo stomped the rest of the way into the house. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, Scorpius followed him. When he stepped into the kitchen, Hugo was nowhere to be seen. After he took off the charm, Scorpius started towards the hallway that led to the stairs; surely Hugo had headed up to his room, or perhaps the bathroom for a shower. He hadn’t made it more than three steps when Hermione walked into the kitchen. She had a Muggle cellphone to her ear and was looking annoyed.

 

Spotting Scorpius, her face lit up. “There you are, Scorpius! I’ve been looking for you _everywhere_.” She held out the phone to him. “Talk to your father, please, before I have to Floo to the Manor and slap him, okay?”

 

With a grin, Scorpius took the phone. “Dad? Yeah, I told her…what? No. No. Dad, it’ll be ruined if…don’t say that. We both know you….yeah. Uh-huh.” There was a pause, then Scorpius made an aggravated sound and began to pace the kitchen. “Dad! Dammit, _listen to me_ , okay? She was _crying._ And there’s nowhere else…no, not on such short notice! It’s…yes, I know. I _know._ Yes.” Another, longer pause, then Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course. No, Aunt Hermione will handle the details. Promise. Right. Here she is, then. Love you, too, Dad. Bye.”

 

Scorpius handed Hermione the phone back with a smug look. “All better. You’re welcome.”

 

Hermione snatched the phone back, mouthing a quick _‘thank you’_ at him before talking. “Draco? Yes, I know it’s something of an imposition but it’s her _wedding,_ after all. The florists will be there at seven…” A slight pause, then she rolled her eyes. “Yes, in the bloody morning, Draco. The caterers won’t be there until ten, the cake people at the same time, the photographers at eleven…”

 

Scorpius walked out while she was still rattling off times and people; he had no interest in the details of the event. He climbed the steps, humming softly under his breath, then practically growled when Rose nearly ran into him at the top of them.

 

“Oh, there you are, ‘Pi!” She exclaimed, and Scorpius was pleased to see that she’d stopped crying even if he was in something of a hurry to get to Hugo just then. “I need to talk to you about…”

 

“Rose, not now.” Scorpius cut her off smoothly and calmly, but firm. “I’m in the middle of something. But I talked to Dad and your mother is talking to him right now. She’s in the kitchen, if you want to go finish handling all of the details. We can talk later.”

 

“Oh, but…” Rose’s long nails dug into his arm as she grabbed him, her eyes pleading. “I just really wanted to thank you. For offering the Manor, I mean. I _so_ want tomorrow to be perfect, you know, and I just don’t know what I would have done if it had been ruined…”

 

Scorpius sighed and gently pried her hand from his arm. “Yes, Rosie, I know. You’re very welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

 

Rose frowned as he sidestepped her and headed for Hugo’s room, but before he’d gone even a few steps she had shrugged and put it out of her mind. Scorpius was grateful.

 

He walked up to Hugo’s door and gently tried the knob. When it refused to budge, Scorpius drew his wand and smirked. “Alohamora.”

 

The lock clicked softly as it opened, deepening Scorpius’ smirk. Hugo was only sixteen today; he couldn’t reinforce the door’s lock with magic. And while most people would have respected the locked door for what it was – a signal that the occupant of the room wished to be alone – Scorpius had no such qualms about entering uninvited. This time, the knob turned smoothly under his hand and the door swung silently inward.

 

And Scorpius forgot how to breathe.

 

Hugo _had_ taken a shower…and he had clearly only _just_ gotten out. He was wearing nothing but a large, fluffy, black towel that was wrapped low around his hips. The door had opened soundlessly, so Hugo didn’t immediately take notice of Scorpius gaping at him from the doorway. Hugo’s curly auburn hair was slicked down, dark from the water, and a startling contrast to his pale, freckled skin. The same soft dusting of freckles that Scorpius knew graced Hugo’s nose and cheeks were scattered over the teen’s shoulders and upper-back, tapering off near his slender waist.

 

As Scorpius’ eyes moved over Hugo’s small form, he dimly registered that Hugo wasn’t sharp or bony, like one would expect of someone so thin. Instead, the younger teen looked soft. There was no muscle-tone under that pale, pale skin, but there was more than bone. Hugo was sleek and smooth; alabaster skin stretched over subtle-softness. His legs were long, and they were just as sleek as the rest of him – long, slender limbs that made Scorpius wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around him.

 

Hugo turned so suddenly that Scorpius realized he must have made some small sound and the view just got even better. Hugo was completely perfect all over. His narrow chest had just enough flesh to it that his ribs didn’t stick out. There was a slight curve to Hugo’s belly – from the bottom of his slightly-prominent ribcage to the top of his groin – that made Scorpius want to _lick._ And there – just above the line of the towel – were Hugo’s hipbones, practically begging to be nibbled on. There was also the faintest line of auburn hair leading down from Hugo’s navel, disappearing beneath the black terry cloth.

 

Hugo’s vibrant blue eyes were wide with shock. Water was still beaded on his light, reddish-brown eyelashes and more trickled down over fair skin, leaving shimmering trails. His full, petal-pink lips were parted in surprise and a dull flush of embarrassed color was spreading from his cheeks, down his neck and chest, and across his shoulders. Scorpius opened his mouth, then shut it again a moment later when he realized he had no idea what he wanted to say.

 

“I…I thought I’d locked the door…” Hugo managed breathlessly and Scorpius wanted nothing more than to devour him on the spot.

 

Instead, he smirked and drawled. “You had. But I’ve got this nifty little thing called a wand that made it rather easy to _un_ lock it again.”

 

Hugo’s brow furrowed and his lips pursed in annoyance. “What, you couldn’t remember how to knock or something? What was so important, then?”

 

Scorpius opened his mouth, shut it again, paused, then said softly. “Just you, really. I just wanted to…to apologize. I should have realized you wouldn’t take even the slightest bit of pleasure in Rose’s wedding being rained on.” When Hugo’s mouth fell open in shock, Scorpius added. “I never meant to insult you, though. We Slytherins accept vindictiveness and jealousy as human nature. I certainly wouldn’t have held it against you in any way.”

 

“Oh.” Hugo let out a stuttering, breathless laugh. “Oh. Well. It’s fine. I just…I get a little tired of people assuming I _must_ be jealous of Rose, or my cousins, just because I’m the only Hufflepuff, and the quietest of us all, and the shyest. I don’t _mind_ , though. And I just wish people would stop thinking I do.”

 

Scorpius nodded slowly, then asked curiously. “What, exactly, is it that you don’t mind, Hugo?”

 

“Oh, you know.” Hugo laughed again, waving his hand dismissively. “I don’t mind that my sister and cousins are all more attractive than me. Or that they’re smarter than me. Or that they’re funnier, or more clever, or more popular. I don’t mind any of that. I’m just me and I’m okay with it.”

 

A self-deprecating smile curved his lips as he added. “I really don’t mind being forgettable. And I really don’t mind that I probably won’t have anyone look at me the way Lysander looks at Rosie; the way Teddy and Victoire look at each other. I just don’t inspire strong feelings in people.” Long lashes swept down to cover those blue eyes that Scorpius thought would melt the hardest of hearts and he finished softly. “I don’t think I’ll _ever_ inspire strong feelings in anyone, because I don’t think I’m capable of feeling them myself. And it’s hard to imagine someone feeling something for me that I can’t feel in return.”

 

Scorpius couldn’t believe that Hugo believed everything he’d just said, but it was clear that he did; that he truly meant every word. With his mind racing, Scorpius spoke quietly. “It’s very noble of you, Hugo, to accept your nature so completely. But I think you underestimate yourself. One day, you’re going to be _very_ surprised by the way someone feels about you. And by the way you feel for them.”

 

Hugo took a trembling breath and shook his head, his eyes still lowered. Then his head snapped up at the sound of his bedroom door closing. Scorpius had left again and Hugo was half-convinced he’d imagined the older man being there at all, except that he wasn’t prone to flights of fancy. For a few moments, Hugo wondered why Scorpius was _so_ convinced he would one day be loved by – and be in love with – someone. Then he realized the Slytherin had probably just been being polite.

 

Shaking such thoughts off, Hugo slipped into his pajamas and flipped off the lights. He closed his eyes and watched the lightning flash behind his eyelids while the sounds of the storm soothed him into dreams. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t all that late in the evening, or that Hugo hadn’t even eaten dinner. He felt exhausted, though he wasn’t sure why. The storm pulled him into heated dreams, full of all the passion he was sure he’d never feel in real life.

 

And sometime during the night, somewhere not that far away, though Hugo didn’t know it, someone else was dreaming of him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Hugo smiled softly from his spot near the doors to the terrace overlooking the Malfoys’ garden. Rose and Lysander were sharing their first dance as husband and wife, reflected a dozen times over in the long wall of mirrors lining one side of the ballroom. Hugo thought Rose had to be – without a doubt – the most beautiful bride in the world. She was glowing with happiness; her blue eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were suffused with rosy color. Her thick, curly, auburn hair – so very much like Hugo’s – was pulled back from her face and piled up at the crown of her head, then left to tumble riotously down over her shoulders. A tiara made of silver roses and tiny, sparkling glass beads wrapped with silver wire was nestled amongst the burnished red of her hair.

 

Her white dress was floor-length, complete with a shorter train than was strictly fashionable, but Rose had been worried about tripping on it. The sweetheart bodice and the little cap sleeves were heavily embellished with crystals and silver embroidery. In the front, the embellishment came down, past the waistline of the dress, in five thick lines that radiated down nearly to Rose’s knees. From there, tiny crystals continued down the front, to meet up with embroidered flowers that crept up from the hem.

 

The flower-pattern continued all the way around the bottom of the dress, edging the entire train with crystals, embroidery, and lace. The back of the dress was open, dipping low to just above the subtle curve of Rose’s waist. But between the little cap sleeves and the fabric sides, the open back was filled in with ropes and patterns of silver beading and more crystals. At Rose’s waist, the embellishments continued down – as they did in the front – in three more lines, with the center one going nearly to Rose’ knees again. With her white, crystal-studded shoes, Rose was literally sparkling from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and Lysander couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her.

 

Hugo couldn’t blame him.

 

The candlelight from the chandeliers and candelabra was dancing over her and reflected in the mirrors and Hugo was suddenly grateful it had rained for most of the day, though it had cleared up about a half an hour ago. This setting – the Malfoys’ ballroom – was the perfect backdrop for Rose on her special day. Hugo made a mental note to thank Scorpius when he had the chance. It was worth all of the hassle, really, and missing his sixteenth birthday, just to see his sister so happy. As Lysander spun her around, she laughed, and the sound seemed to fill the room over the sound of the musicians playing and the guests whispering softly to each other.

 

Hugo could feel his throat tightening and he swallowed hard, then turned to slip out onto the terrace. No one would miss him and he wasn’t sure he could watch Rose any longer. His family were the only ones who could – on very rare occasions – bring out strong feelings in him. They made Hugo uncomfortable; they were overwhelming and often unpleasant and he’d found the best thing to do was to get away from the situation causing them. So he leaned against the balustrade and just breathed in the smell of ozone and green, growing things and loam. It settled him down inside; it made him feel more peaceful.

 

That peace was shattered a few moments later when Scorpius appeared. The blonde didn’t greet Hugo at all; he just smirked and held out a hand, saying softly. “I’ve got something I’d like to share with you. Will you come with me?”

 

“Oh, but, the wedding…” Hugo glanced nervously towards the doors he’d come through, but no one seemed to be looking for him. “I really should get back…”

 

“Why?” Scorpius asked, tipping his head to the side quizzically. “You said it yourself yesterday, Hugo. It’s not as though any of them are going to miss you.”

 

Hugo opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his tongue. He _had_ said that, after all, and it _was_ true. He’d even been thinking it as he left the ballroom just moments earlier. So where was the harm in going to see whatever it was that Scorpius wanted to show him? It couldn’t be worse than watching the wedding with the painful knowledge that he would most-likely never have one himself. And it was surely more interesting – though likely less serene – than looking out over the gardens and lawns.

 

Hugo bit his lower lip, then sighed and placed his hand lightly against Scorpius’. “All right. Where are we going?”

 

Scorpius’ fingers closed around his hand instantly and a wicked little smile curved his lips. “You’ll see when we get there.” Scorpius’ silver eyes were shining with knowledge and amusement as he gave a light tug on Hugo’s hand. “It’s a surprise; for your birthday.”

 

“Oh…” Hugo sighed the word as he followed meekly along in Scorpius’ wake. They crossed the terrace and entered the house again through what looked like a study, bypassing the ballroom – and the wedding reception – altogether. “You didn’t have to do that…”

 

“I know.” Scorpius’ voice was mild, but he shot Hugo a small smile over his shoulder, still leading Hugo by the hand as they moved down a hallway, then started up some stairs. “But I wanted to. One’s birthday should never pass without acknowledgement.”

 

Hugo fell silent as Scorpius led him through the labyrinthine corridors of the Manor, and up at least two floors from the ballroom. Hugo watched as they passed portraits – who watched him in return – and paintings of landscapes and statues. There was even a large Grecian urn on a pedestal at one point. Hugo peeked into the handful of rooms they passed that had the doors left open. The opulence and luxury amazed him. Even though his parents were very well off – Hugo and Rose had certainly never lacked for anything at all – they didn’t live lavishly, or in excess. Hugo suspected it was his mum’s way of making his dad more comfortable, since Ron had grown up with so little in terms of material things. Hugo knew his dad had never been overly-comfortable with money, even after having it for so many years.

 

So Hugo was a little in awe of the way Scorpius had been raised, surrounded by so very much all of the time. The Manor was the epitome of old-money: wealth and prestige and heritage, all rolled into one. It was beautiful and overwhelming and a little oppressive. It was _perfect._ Hugo had never been _really_ envious of anyone before, despite how many times he’d been accused of jealousy. But he was envious now of all of the Malfoys, but especially of Scorpius and the wife he would one day bring home to live in this gorgeous place. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair. And other times, it was unnecessarily cruel. Like just then, taunting Hugo with glimpses of things he could never have.

 

Suddenly, Scorpius was opening a door. He smiled back at Hugo and released the redhead’s hand, gesturing to the now-open door. “This is it. Go on in.”

 

“Um, okay.” Hugo managed weakly, stepping into the room nervously.

 

His eyes widened in confusion when he realized he was standing in a large bedroom. _Scorpius’_ bedroom, in fact, if he had to guess. There was a desk, covered in books and parchment and quills. There were Quidditch posters on the walls, and a few magazines on the nightstand. There was a plush black carpet beneath Hugo’s shoes. There was a school trunk – with the initials ‘ _S.H.M.’_ scrawled on it – at the foot of the bed. The four-poster bed, which was enormous and done up in black and emerald green and silver, seemed to dominate the entire room.

 

Hugo didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He had absolutely no idea what was expected of him. So he turned to stare at Scorpius, feeling completely helpless. He watched dumbly as Scorpius turned the key in the door, locking it, then reinforced it with several locking and privacy spells. When the Slytherin turned to look at him, there was a predatory look in his face that had Hugo’s breath hitching in his chest in a lovely way.

 

“Hugo, do you remember yesterday when you said to me that you don’t inspire strong feelings in anyone, or feel them yourself?” Scorpius asked, and his voice was surprisingly casual considering the heated look in his eyes.

 

“Y-yes…” Hugo stuttered, suddenly trembling all over though he wasn’t quite sure why. “Wh-what does that h-have to d-do with an-anything?”

 

“I want to give you a birthday present.” Scorpius purred, moving closer to the boy. When there was only a few inches between then, he reached out and cupped Hugo’s cheek tenderly. Then he leaned down until there was barely a centimeter of space between their faces, and whispered. “I’m going to prove you wrong now, love.”

 

Hugo opened his mouth, fully intending to say something scathing and clever in response to such an arrogant, impolite claim. The words died on Hugo’s tongue when Scorpius closed the small distance between them, kissing him.

 

The kiss wasn’t tender, or soft, or gentle. It was hard and fierce and needy. Scorpius was devouring Hugo’s mouth as though he were starved for the taste of the smaller teen. His tongue traced the line of Hugo’s teeth, then curled to lick at the ridges on the roof of Hugo’s mouth. The hand cupping his cheek slid back, tangling in auburn curls and fisting there. A sharp tug allowed Scorpius to change the angle of the kiss, his tongue thrusting deeper into the moist cavern of Hugo’s mouth, tasting every inch of him.

 

Hugo’s knees went weak and a whine built in his throat, desperate to escape. Feeling like he might collapse under the onslaught of pleasure and need he suddenly felt, Hugo’s hands clutched desperately at Scorpius’ shoulders. Hugo’s nails bit into Scorpius’ skin through the fabric of his dress robes as he clung to the taller man and tentatively began to kiss back.

 

The instant Hugo’s tongue stroked over Scorpius’, the blonde groaned low in his throat and wound his free arm around Hugo’s slender waist. Scorpius dragged the petite boy flush against him, still ravishing his sweet mouth. The instant Hugo felt the hard, hot pressure of Scorpius’ arousal against his stomach, he broke the kiss with a loud cry. He stared up at Scorpius in shock, shivering against him, his mouth slick and swollen and trembling. His blue eyes were glassy and dazed.

 

Scorpius growled, then leaned in and scraped his teeth over the delicate line of Hugo’s jaw. When Hugo jerked against him, unintentionally pressing his hardening cock against Scorpius’ thigh even as he cried out again, the Slytherin groaned and rasped hoarsely in his ear. “You’re so beautiful, Hugo…fuck, I’ve wanted you for _ages_ and you were just so young...so bloody fucking innocent. But I don’t care anymore. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

 

Hugo couldn’t quite believe what was happening. He felt foggy and dazed. His skin felt hot and too-tight and all he wanted was to get as close to Scorpius as possible. Scorpius’ words had his head spinning; he couldn’t believe the Slytherin had wanted him. How had he not known? How had he not noticed? How had Scorpius managed to keep his feelings hidden, if they were even half as strong and fierce as what was whipping through Hugo?

 

Hugo whined softly as Scorpius’ lips and teeth and tongue sampled his neck, then panted. “I…I don’t understand…when…I mean, why…”

 

A hot, damp burst of air moved across Hugo’s ear and Scorpius laughed softly. “I love that you have no idea how sexy you are.” Lifting his head to look down into those deep blue eyes, he added. “You’re completely gorgeous.”

 

“I’m not.” Hugo demurred, lowering his eyelashes. “Not really. _You_ …well, everyone knows _you’re_ gorgeous, but I…I’m just average. Really.”

 

Hugo tried to pull away, but Scorpius held fast. “Not true.” Scorpius murmured, but there was steel in his voice. He tightened the arm around Hugo’s waist and arched his hips, pressing himself harder against Hugo’s belly. “Feel that?”

 

Hugo’s breath hitched in his chest and he nodded faintly, feeling a little lightheaded. Scorpius smirked and purred. “That’s what you do to me, love. That’s what you make me feel, every time I see you.”

 

Hugo made a soft, keening sound. Then he pushed up onto his toes and kissed Scorpius. He let everything he was feeling – the burning heat, the dizzying need, and the desperate longing – flow into that kiss. He pushed his tongue into Scorpius’ mouth and rocked his hips against the blonde. When Scorpius’ hands slid down his body to grab his ass and lift him up, Hugo eagerly wrapped his legs around Scorpius’ waist and clung. And when Scorpius’ tongue chased Hugo’s back into his own mouth, Hugo sucked on it and delighted in the shiver that went through Scorpius’ lithe, well-muscled frame.

 

Hugo felt the whole world tilt and realized he was now lying on his back on Scorpius’ bed. A few whispered words from Scorpius and both of their clothes vanished. Hugo couldn’t help crying out at the feel of skin-on-skin. He wound his arms and legs tighter around Scorpius, not sparing a single thought for embarrassment. There was no modesty; no shyness. There was only Scorpius Malfoy, a wall of heat and pressure above him and against him, and the desire and need burning brightly inside of him.

 

Scorpius’ lips moved over Hugo’s jaw and neck, tongue darting out and teeth scraping supple flesh, as he murmured another incantation into heated skin. Hugo gasped, his back arching as his eyes went wide, pupils blown with lust. Hugo felt instantly stretched and slick; he hadn’t even realized there was a spell that did that. A small part of his brain wondered how Scorpius knew about it, but the rest of him was too focused on the hot, blunt pressure against his ass to give it much thought.

 

“I’m sorry…” Scorpius murmured as he dragged his lips over Hugo’s cheek, kissing the freckles that danced across the bridge of the Hufflepuff’s nose. “I wanted to go slow, I did, but…”

 

“Don’t be sorry.” Hugo gasped, arching his hips up to meet Scorpius as he began to enter Hugo’s body in one slow, steady thrust. “Don’t care…need you…want this…”

 

Scorpius groaned at those words said in that low, breathless voice; Hugo was the perfect little fantasy, just like he’d known he would be. The redhead accepted him easily and he sank swiftly into the tight heat of Hugo’s body. When he was fully seated, Scorpius began scattering kisses over Hugo’s face – his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, and even his lightly-fluttering eyelids. Hugo sighed softly; the sound was pleased and so was the soft curve of Hugo’s kiss-swollen mouth.

 

Those liquid-cobalt eyes opened and Hugo said wonderingly. “I never realized it would be like this…I had no idea…”

 

“Like what?” Scorpius murmured, though he didn’t wait for an answer . He was unable to resist leaning down and capturing that soft, sweet mouth once more. When they broke apart, Scorpius said. “Tell me what you’re thinking, love.”

 

Hugo smiled, his whole face soft and open, his eyes shining. “Perfect.” He breathed. “It’s all just so very, very perfect. I feel…Merlin, I feel _full,_ which is odd because I didn’t feel empty before, but it’s _lovely_ and I want…” Hugo paused, then said slowly. “I want…something…”

 

Scorpius could see Hugo’s mind working, so he remained silent while the Hufflepuff thought. Finally, Hugo said consideringly. “I think that I want… _more.”_

Hugo’s couldn’t help gasping slightly at the change those words wrought on Scorpius. The Slytherin had been looking at him softly; with a tenderness that made Hugo feel warm and glowing. In an instant, Scorpius’ eyes darkened and wicked desire shone in them. And then that warmth Hugo felt turned to heat and the glow turned to sparkling, burning need.

 

Scorpius gave no indication – no hint – of what he was about to do. He simply withdrew nearly all the way from Hugo’s body, then slammed back in. Hugo’s back arched, his legs tightened around Scorpius’ waist, and his nails dug into the pale skin of Scorpius’ shoulders. Scorpius didn’t let up; didn’t give Hugo a chance to catch his breath or adjust. He just kept pounding into the smaller boy. Hugo’s nails dragged sharply down Scorpius’ back and his head thrashed from side to side. A stream of unintelligible noises left his mouth.

 

When Hugo’s orgasm ripped through him, there was little warning. It wasn’t a slow build; it wasn’t even a growing desire or coiling tension. It was sudden and instantaneous. One moment, Hugo was clinging to the pleasure singing through his blood with greedy, grasping fingers and, in the next, he was simply _shattering._ His mouth fell open on a scream and his eyes rolled back in his head as he spilled, hot and wet and sticky, between their bodies.

 

Scorpius growled and kept thrusting into the rippling, pulsing heat of Hugo’s body, loving the way it clenched around him. Then he buried his face in Hugo’s neck, set his teeth to the tendon there, and spilled himself inside the redhead’s willing body.

 

Hugo cried out again when Scorpius’ teeth sunk into his neck, then he whimpered at the feeling of wet heat bathing his insides. Then Scorpius collapsed on top of him, his weight solid and reassuring and stabilizing, and Hugo sighed and smiled. His hands stroked lightly up and down Scorpius’ spine while the blonde nuzzled his neck.

 

When Scorpius gathered enough strength to roll to the side, Hugo followed and curled into the warmth and security of Scorpius’ arms. Scorpius smirked and pressed a kiss to tousled auburn curls, murmuring into them. “Happy sixteenth birthday, Hugo.”

 

Hugo smiled, yawned sleepily, and nuzzled Scorpius’ chest lightly with his nose. “Mmmm… _belated_ birthday.” He corrected on a sleepy sigh. Scorpius chuckled softly and Hugo added on a quiet breath of air. “Best birthday ever…”

 

Scorpius’ arms tightened around him and the last thing Hugo heard as his eyes drifted shut and he slipped into dreams was Scorpius’ heartfelt declaration. “I love you, Hugo.”

 

And though he didn’t know it, half-dreaming as he was, Hugo sleepily answered. “Love you, too.”

 

**_~ The End ~_ **


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